All I want for Christmas is You
by Quiet Time
Summary: It's Jack first Christmas at the North Pole, and it's not as easy as he'd expected. Sequel to 'Where the lovelight gleams.' For Tamaar, because she asked.
1. Chapter 1

_This is the latest instalment in the Ianto Claus verse. I thought this series was done, but Tamaar asked, and this happened. So this is for you, Tamaar, with thanks for bring my muse out of the closet._

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><p>"Y'now, if you hadn't wanted to make this exclusive, there's gotta be a more subtle way to tell me," Jack announced, flinging open the bedroom door preparatory to storming into the living room. "Or you could've even been direct, it's not like I'd..."<p>

Jack broke off, struck by the silence which greeted his pronouncement, which was at a level rarely achieved at the North Pole. Sorry, the North Pole analogue within the very edges of the Rift, a distinction for which Jack didn't really feel the need, regardless of the number of cheerful corrections he'd endured. The relatively mild weather conditions were a giveaway in themselves, not to mention the elves and reindeer, or the suspiciously gingerbread-like houses. Or, y'know. _Santa. _And his successor, with whom Jack shared a bed.

Ianto raised his head from the scattering of maps spread across the table which occupied the far corner of their living area. "_Now_, Jack?" he asked, with the air of long-suffering that hadn't changed the slightest since the days when Jack used to creep on him in the archives and which was invariably rendered ineffective by the smile that accompanied the tone. "You've had literally centuries, and you want to have that particular discussion _now_?"

Jack surveyed the room and sighed, internally at least. Externally, he propped himself against the doorframe and let a grin spread lazily across his own face. The elves fidgeting on either side of Ianto blinked themselves out of their wide-eyed stares and began shuffling papers.

"We can finish later," one offered, eyes down and cheeks pink as she tucked a clumsily-folded map beneath her arm. Jack's grin edged toward a leer. They were an attractive lot, these Christmas elves, especially this pair who were Ianto's right-hand, er, well, he'd say men, except one was distinctly female. And they _were_ elves. Right-hand elf didn't have the same ring to it.

Jack had been living here for almost a year now, having returned with Ianto after the previous Christmas, but he still hadn't quite wrapped his mind around it all. Ianto Claus. Reindeer. Elves. Mind you, all those Christmas cards had hinted at something akin to Oompaloompas so it was understandable that he'd need time to adjust to bumping shoulders with these ethereal creatures which might have inspired Tolkien. And possibly had, before finding their way to this haven.

Ianto sighed gustily. "We could use a break," he agreed, shoving his own pile of papers to the edge of the table with scant regard for creases.

"You have the reindeer trials in seventy-two minutes," the female elf reminded him, gamely lifting her eyes to glance at Jack. "You're welcome to attend, of course, Frost."

"Sure thing, Bells," Jack replied, affecting a cheerful tone. It wasn't her real name, but as long as she persisted with Frost he felt justified in giving some of her own back. He wasn't against taking on the Christmassy persona, was looking forward to it actually, but it was supposed to be _Jack _Frost. A minor point, perhaps, to someone who'd lived so many lives, but he'd liked being Jack. It was Jack who'd helped save the world instead of soil it, Jack who'd won Ianto.

The other elf, naturally, was Jingle. It was his polysyllabic name that had prompted the nickname in the first place, given that Jack had initially mangled it so badly that he'd apparently insulted the dude's ancestors.

Jingle cleared his throat. "Don't be disheartened, Sir," he urged, at which Jack nearly forgave several of the elf's shortcomings. "It's going well. I'm sure we've cut several minutes off already."

"Minutes," Ianto muttered, closing his eyes briefly before smiling his thanks and rising from the table. He hadn't attempted the name either, Jack noticed smugly, though nor had he fallen back on Jingle, an event for which Jack lived in hope. He'd once overheard the pair of elves complaining to Ianto, who'd assured them that the pet names were a term of endearment. The three of them knew better, but maintained a polite conspiracy to avoid upsetting Ianto, either because of their devotion to the man or because an upset Ianto failed to create coffee magic.

Both men moved towards each other as the room cleared, meeting midway across the room where Ianto paused within arm's reach, conspicuously failing to make eye contact as he fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat.

Jack thought it was cute, which he'd later blame on the fact that Ianto hadn't left his usual morning coffee on his bedside table. "I didn't mean to embarrass you," he offered, cupping Ianto's hands with his own before he worried the buttons right off. "I knew you'd woken before me" – because he'd opened his eyes and arms to a cold, empty bed –"but I didn't know you had company already."

Jack was well aware that it hadn't come across in the playful manner he'd intended, especially combined with his opening comment, but the blush spreading across Ianto's face was every bit as enchanting now as it had been when the reddened cheeks were plump and unwrinkled, so Jack could hardly be blamed for missing the warning signs. Or so he'd claim later.

"After all Jack," Ianto said plaintively. "I only used to see you once a year. Surely it isn't a surprise that I..."

Jack pulled Ianto into his arms, any further speech muffled against his chest while his mind fluttered with something close to panic as it replayed the events of the morning.

Empty bed, no coffee, elves in the living room. And Jack himself posing in the doorway like the poster boy he'd always been at heart, swapping accusations in the guise of banter.

Ianto was right to say this was a discussion they'd avoided. Jack hadn't intended to begin it today, either. Or ever, for preference. Things were different now, of course, but for centuries their time together had been limited to the fleeting chunk of Christmas Eve that Santa spent delivering gifts. Jack, being Jack, hadn't always hesitated to take other lovers during the year, but hypocritical as he knew it was, he didn't want to know that Ianto had done the same.

Especially not with the elves, and it wasn't like there was much else on offer. Not that it'd be a hardship. Long limbs, flowing hair, grace that a dancer would envy, there wasn't a single one of them Jack would have kicked out of bed in his heyday. Even old Jingle still had it.

The mere thought of Ianto with that officious twerp made Jack's stomach twist.

Ianto pulled back and looked up into Jack's face. He was blushing still. He was gorgeous, still and always. Jack quite fiercely didn't want to share him.

"I kind of got used to stuffing my libido into the closet through the year," Ianto said, words escaping in a rush, searching Jack's face as he spoke. "If you could just be patient a while longer...I'm sure it I'll get back into the...the... swing of, well..."

The pressure in Jack's chest released so suddenly he gasped, expelling the air in a gust that escaped as a chuckle which grew into laughter as he traced back along the path of his own panicked thoughts.

His life would probably get easier if he listened occasionally. Or stopped assuming the universe revolved around him, not something to cling to when it had only ever done so due to his status as an irritant. Like the grit in an oyster, Ianto claimed, which was a very Ianto thing to say and reinforced that Ianto was worth listening to, a fact Jack had neglected since arriving in a part of the universe which revolved around Ianto instead. Mostly. Certainly to the extent that his aides might need to consult with him before breakfast.

"Jack?" Ianto asked worriedly.

"Sooo not what I meant," Jack gasped, clutching Ianto to him as he staggered back onto an overstuffed couch. "Assuming I meant anything at all apart from trying to tempt you back to bed, which is something that you, Ianto _Claus_, should never assume."

"Jack," Ianto protested, laughing as he tried hardly at all to get away. "I've got reindeer trials to attend."

Jack had only just resolved to listen, so he did, carefully enough to note the level of actual protest, which was decidedly minimal.

"Bells said you had seventy minutes, or thereabout," he responded, popping another button open.

"You know her name is actually Amra, don't you?" Ianto chided, while snuggling.

Jack allowed himself a pout. "She calls _me_ Frost. The correct title is _Jack _Frost," he added meaningfully, before Ianto could get the frown working. "And she keeps taking my clothes, which was what I'd have gotten to if she hadn't been looming over you in our living room."

The frown finished forming. "The elves want your measurements so they can start making things for you, Jack. You should be flattered, really. It took years before they wanted to make anything for _me_." The tiepin he'd given to Jack, as it happened.

"Making I have no issue with," Jack answered. "It's the mending I object to. Jingle tried to repaint my tiepin, Ianto!" He'd carried that in his pocket for years uncounted, his talisman, every scratch a reminder that those nights with Ianto weren't just the working of his fervent imagination.

"I'll talk to him," Ianto said. That tiepin was important to him, too. Each missing flake of paint had told him that Jack thought of him through the year, and he'd needed that.

"He only had it in the first place because Bells took my coat," Jack continued vengefully. "So she could gild the epaulettes, might I add."

"I'll talk to her too," Ianto promised, trying not to laugh. "No one mends that coat but me."

Jack nodded. "No one _touches_ that coat except you," he declared. "And now that's sorted, we've got just over sixty minutes left, which ought to be long enough to get your libido out of the closet, even if we can't get it swinging."

Ianto giggled. Thousands of years old and he _giggled. _It was quite possible _Jack's_ universe revolved around _him_, and that wasn't a bad thing at all.

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><p><em>There are more chapters to come, though I am unlikely to post them all before Christmas. Have a Merry one, won't you?<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to everyone who has read and commented. Hope you had a lovely Christmas._

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><p>It boggled the mind slight to see Santa Claus wearing jeans. Not that there was anything unsuitable about them except for, well, they were<em> jeans<em>. Denim. With rivets. On Santa. Red denim, as though that made it better, though a relatively sober shade of red. They were carefully cut, too, in a style that befitted a man of advanced years and that particular physique which could only be described as 'comfortable' without giving offence.

Jack Frost, nee Harkness, was the very last person in the universe who would consider offending Santa, and only then if absolutely required in the defence of the person Jack had just this morning begun referring to as his eternal life partner, over said partner's plaintive objections. Partly due to the way Ianto's nose crinkled whenever Jack used the phrase, but mostly because it was true. Which was mind boggling in the best of ways.

There were quite a few items boggling Jack's mind lately, as it happened. On a fairly regular basis. As in, daily, often before breakfast. Like this morning, for instance.

He supposed right now counted, as well. Casual Santa. Retired Santa, wearing jeans and something probably meant to be a hoodie, whom Jack had always been privileged to call Nick.

Except that everyone called him Nick now, by his own request. Even the elves.

Those _damned_ elves. They were everywhere, which was only to be expected, but Jack would have preferred not to extend to his and Ianto's private living quarters. Ianto had promised to talk to them about it. As though Jack had ever needed Ianto to fight his battles for him.

Jack sighed to himself, swallowing down lingering frustration before slipping quietly through the door of the reindeer's stable to where Nick lounged on a bench against wall, eyes all a-twinkle as he watched Ianto stroll along a line of fidgeting reindeer, pausing now and then to tweak some harness or scratch between a pair of antlers.

Stable, Jack thought, shaking his head fondly as he surveyed the structure wherein the flying reindeer were housed in luxury as would make the most pampered of racehorses gnash its teeth in envy. Ianto spoiled those creatures rotten. Jack would've had words with him, except that the reindeer repaid the pampering by working their hearts out, if only for a brief flurry once a year. Jack had seen them at the end of the run, all those years ago in Cardiff, legs trembling but heads still high, and he supposed they had earned their comfort. He didn't like to contemplate how much worse it must have been for them before Ianto trained up the team of kangaroos.

Kangaroos. Living at Santa's North Pole. Jack's mind swerved in self-defence from contemplating the dust-storm generated just for the excuse of shipping he-didn't-want-to-know-how-much red earth to cover the floor of the 'roo enclosure. Sorry, 'habitat'. The heated one. Though in fairness, the heating was due to the fact that the 'roo habitat had been cleverly situated to share a wall with the chamber where the elves forged all the metal toys and jewellery. Jack smiled fondly. No doubt that had been Ianto's idea.

It was hard to reconcile Ianto, _his _Ianto, the one who had noticed the melted snow outside the forge and immediately began planning to utilise the radiant heat, the same one laughing as a reindeer butted his shoulder for more attention, with the mysterious red-coated being who could twist the elements to his bidding. That kind of power was frightening in the extreme. Then again, Jack thought, as Nick beckoned to him with a gloved hand, Ianto had used it to keep his kangaroos warm so they could deliver presents to kids living amongst that same sort of sand, so on balance it appeared the Universe knew exactly what it was doing.

"Is this seat free?" Jack whispered, gesturing to the bit of bench not occupied by Nick's august, ermm - presence.

Nick brushed off a layer of snow and patted the cleared spot in invitation. "Come to watch the show?" he asked, eyes twinkling brightly.

"Apparently," Jack agreed, settling down into the cleared patch before the snowflakes drifting in through the doorway could cover it again. The bench retained the cold, biting at his legs even through the layers of trousers and greatcoat, and Jack couldn't restrain a wince.

"Cold?" Nick asked a tad too casually. "You might want to ask the elves to run you up something."

Jack shot Nick a sideways glance that would have earned him a spot at the top of the Naughty List, if Nick hadn't been retired. "My coat is fine, thanks," he responded, pointedly turning up the collar to shield his neck.

"Hardly waterproof," Nick said dubiously, brushing off the flakes that had collected along the shoulders.

"Snow on the coat, not on me," Jack retorted. "Now c'mon, Nick," he added, changing the subject hurriedly as Ianto noticed his presence and waved. "Tell me what Ianto's up to today and spare me the grief I so richly deserve for letting my eyes glaze over during breakfast."

Nick chuckled, that belly-deep chuckle which never faded. "It's the first trial flight of the second-string team," he supplied, wagging a reproving finger when Jack's brows creased in confusion. "And you _should_ know about it, Jack, breakfast shenanigans or not. Ianto has been training them for months."

Jack squinted at the reindeer, only now noting the variations which showed they weren't the same animals he'd grown used to greeting each Christmas Eve. Younger, for one thing, which explained all the fidgeting going on as Ianto and the attendant elves dodged twitching hooves while trying to hitch up the sleigh. Old Dasher and his team would never be so skittish. They knew better than to waste their energy.

"So that's what he's been up to all that time," Jack mused. "I have to admit, Nick, whenever Ianto got his head together with his two best elf-buddies, I tended to give them their space."

"So you could chew on your own spleen in private," Nick suggested, clapping a hand onto Jack's shoulder. "Always knew you were a foolish boy, Jack."

"It's been noted," Jack retorted sourly. "By Ianto, within the last hour, in case you didn't know, which I suspect you do."

Nick favoured him with an expression of angelic innocence which didn't fool Jack for a second. The old fox had been exercising his 'sees you when you're sleeping' privileges, which in his case was done from love and didn't disturb Jack nearly so much as the notion of elves sorting through his underwear. Which they had, because no-one else would have rearranged them according to colour.

"I confess that I have been blind and untrusting," Jack announced, because Nick appreciated grand gestures and the occasion seemed to call for it, "and am newly resolved to do better from now on, or did you miss that bit?"

"Tuned out when you started playing footsies under the table," Nick agreed cheerfully, clapping Jack on the shoulder with enough strength to slide him further along the bench. Jack didn't mind, given that Nick had been showing increasing signs of weakness those last few years before he'd officially handed the reins over to Ianto. It was comforting to see his old friend gaining back some ground.

"Even if that means continuing to take an interest when he's ranted about the same thing for so long that the idea of chewing off my own ears becomes appealing," Jack continued dolefully.

Nick smiled. "He does tend to fixate somewhat, doesn't he?" he agreed.

Jack rolled his eyes. Across the compound, Ianto ducked beneath a thrashing antler, slapped a flank in reproof, and then turned towards them, his breath escaping in huge puffs of steaming air from the exertion.

"In the spirit of which," Jack continued, in a more sober tone, "I can't help wondering why he's going to all this effort. _You _managed fine with one team, and it's not as though the old guys are anywhere near retirement." Not the most tactful comment, Jack realised, wincing even as the words left his mouth. It was unfair that Nick had been forced to retire yet the animals remained unaffected, but as Nick himself would say, the universe worked in strange ways. "Besides," Jack added, moving on hurriedly, "He's already got the kangaroos. Is another team really necessary?"

The levity dropped from Nick's face, which looked wrong without it. "You really should have been listening, Jack," he said gravely.

Jack returned the sombre gaze with one of his own. "I'm listening now, Nick."

"So you are," Nick agreed. "And to be fair, he'd probably not have told you that part, anyway. It's..."

Jack frowned. "Nick?"

"Tricky," Nick concluded abruptly, as Ianto strode towards them, flushed and grinning. "Later."

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><p><em>Hope you enjoyed. Only one chapter remaining, which fingers crossed and muse permitting will be posted by New Year.<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_So, I was wrong about only one chapter being left. (Don't you love it when these things run off and write themselves?) One more chapter, plus epilogue, but the good news is that it should be up by tomorrow._

_Thank you to everyone who has been so encouraging. Hope you enjoy._

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><p>Scattered cheers broke out as the trainee reindeer team struggled into the sky, thrashing hooves finally gaining purchase on empty air. Jack joined in the applause, breaking off to wave wildly as Ianto raised an arm in farewell and triumph before gentling the team with reins and voice and turning them to launch into the velvet skies of the midday night.<p>

Having spent a large proportion of his life in space, the concept of midnight sky before lunchtime was one of the few things about the North Pole that _didn't_ boggle Jack's mind, so he was able to watch in quiet contentment until the sleigh was just another speck of light amongst the stars.

Prompted by a bout of blatantly unnecessary throat-clearing, he glanced aside to see St Nicholas in all his fatherly glory, brow raised in the unmistakeable 'I can wait as long as it takes, young man,' expression.

Jack sighed. "I'm guessing it's that 'later' you mentioned."

Nick jerked his head towards the empty skies. "He'll be a while, and judging from that takeoff he'll need you with a clear mind when he gets back."

Jack inclined his head with exaggerated courtliness. "Lead on, oh wise one."

The corridors they traversed became progressively less redolent of Yuletide and elves thereof, which was definitely a plus in Jack's mind. Not a working area, he concluded, which made it feel much less as though he was about to be hauled over the coals by the boss, but increased the likelihood that he was getting torn a new one by his father-in-law instead. Jack's stomach twisted.

They approached a majestic wooden door, all iron bands and big-headed nails but neither doorknob nor lock. Jack knew he shouldn't be surprised when it swung open as they approached. When had Santa ever needed a key?

Once inside, Jack peered around with open curiosity. He'd never been in Nick's private quarters before. The room they'd entered was spacious, but comfortably cluttered with furniture and an assortment of knick-knacks which Jack's fingers itched to inspect. The decor echoed the corridors outside, with a marked lack of holly, tinsel or any of the other Christmas-themed furnishings which proliferated throughout the rest of the Pole, including the suite where Jack lived with Ianto.

Jack wondered if Ianto had ever been here, and whether he could be convinced to follow suit. It'd be nice to relax somewhere that was less obviously part of Ianto's workplace. Which was probably exactly what Ianto had thought all that time Jack was living in the Hub. Jack felt a fleeting sense of respect for the patience of karma.

"Guilt," Nick announced, settling into the middle of an ancient sofa and waving Jack to another.

Jack blinked himself back to the present and sat where indicated. "Where?" he enquired. "Or should I say Who?"

"Ianto's motivating factor," Nick explained. "Guilt. And you, my friend, were supposed to be doing something about that, had you pulled your head out of what I'm assured is a very fine ass – his words, not mine – for long enough."

Jack stared at his old friend, sufficiently bewildered by the sudden attack to feel firmly on the defensive. It wasn't as though he hadn't noticed, but Ianto had been driven by one sort of guilt or another since well before Jack had ever met him.

Yeah, he probably should have done something about it, at that.

Nick flung both arms into the air. "Don't give me the innocent look, Jack. I know he's as much to blame as you are and I am so very close to being out of patience with the pair of you," he announced. "You've been together for centuries, lad. Do you never _talk_, for goodness sake?"

"We had less than twelve hours a year," Jack retorted, hackles well and truly risen. "One night out of three hundred and sixty five – or six – confined to a hotel room. An annual booty cool, courtesy of you, Dear Santa, and don't get me wrong, we were grateful for it. But if you wanted us to focus on conversation, Nick, somewhere with furniture other than a bed might have helped."

Nick glared at him through narrowed eyes. Really, really not his look, and all the scarier for it. He even raised a fist, which Jack watched with the intensity of a snake with its charmer.

"So you want to go with deflection then? Fine, we'll deal with that first. One." The fist uncurled, index finger waving. Jack nearly smiled. Numbering, not punching. Of course. What was he thinking? Santa didn't punch. However tempted.

"One," Nick repeated. "You chose the venue, I just brought Ianto there," he corrected. "Two, you and he have been living in the same quarters, with all sorts of furniture, might I add, for months." He paused, raising a slightly fluffy eyebrow. "Three. Sorry, is there a three? Line them up, son; I'm waiting to hear how you've not managed to have a serious conversation in all the time you've been here."

"The prospect of elves popping in unannounced at any given moment tends to discourage open and honest communication," Jack snapped back. "Especially when up 'til this morning I was kinda convinced that one or both of them were Ianto's elves-with-benefits."

Slightly horrified at having let that one past his lips, Jack bit them.

A low chuckle rose from the opposite sofa. "Progress, at last, and all it took was poking your last nerve." Nick raised his eyes to the ceiling. "I should be sorry, I know. But truly, the pair of you would try the patience of a saint, and I know what I'm saying here. Getting anything meaningful from either of you is harder than getting the stripes out of a candy cane."

Jack's pout inched back towards a smile. Nick grinned in return. "In that chest over there," he said, waving a beefy hand, "you will find beer, of which I have amassed a very substantial supply over the years because they _would _keep leaving it out for me, the little loves, and even I can't drink that much alcohol in one night. Get one for me and yourself and we'll start sorting out this mess."

It wasn't a good idea to argue with Santa just before Christmas, so Jack did as he was told, with an emotion fluttering within his ribs that felt very much like hope.

"Jealousy," Nick began, before Jack was quite back in his seat, "Is a destructive emotion, as you've no doubt said many times yourself."

Jack nodded very briefly before attempting to hide behind his beer, blessing the generations of Welsh kids who'd kept Santa so very well supplied with Brains.

"And in this case wildly inappropriate," Nick continued, "Given that Ianto isn't so much smitten with the elves as intimidated by them."

Jack placed his bottle carefully onto the table between them and leaned closer to Nick. "That's ridiculous," he said. "They fawn all over him." He frowned. "And from what I've seen, he fawns right back, pretty much."

Nick shrugged. "Ridiculous, but true. History, you see. Theirs, and Ianto's history with them." Nick paused for a deep swallow of his beer. "The elves weren't as welcoming as they should have been when Ianto arrived, out of some foolish notion of loyalty to me, if you can believe that, which I didn't for far too long. I had to speak with them all in the end, quite firmly, as I recall, so there might be some residual resentment after all. Has Ianto really not told you any of this?"

Jack frowned. "He might have mentioned something," he conceded, remembering a wistful comment just that morning and wondering how many others he'd brushed off.

"Potted history, then," Nick said briskly. "Right, well you have to understand that the elves hadn't served a Father of Christmas before me. The fellow I took over from popped back with them when war broke out in the dimension he'd retired to. Dragons and dwarves and goodness knows what else, and you want to get the children away, don't you? Well he did, and I was glad to have them, especially when they got old enough to start helping."

Jack rubbed the spot between his eyes, where a steady ache was beginning to form. "This predecessor of yours, his name wasn't Gandalf, by any chance?" he asked, smiling when Nick's mouth fell open. He wasn't even particularly surprised. It was only this morning that he'd wondered about Jingle and co having inspired Tolkien, after all.

"After Dumbledore, I've just decided to assume every elderly wizard I've ever heard of was one of your predecessors," Jack explained. No doubt one day soon he'd meet Merlin.

Nick's eyes twinkled. "And some you haven't," he agreed. "Anyway, seems the elves decided to support me by giving Ianto the sort of welcome better suited to the real Arctic than this one, and by the time I'd sorted it out, the damage was done. So there you have it. Ianto, being Ianto, remains convinced they still resent him, hence the silly lad works from your living room instead of what should now be his office. The elves, for their part, are going a tad overboard to prove otherwise, not to mention trying to impress him by winning you over as well, at which they seem to be failing quite epically."

Jack pointed an accusing finger. "Tell them to stay out of our bedroom and they'll be halfway there."

"Those," Nick said with a smile, toasting Jack with his empty bottle, "Are not the words of the Jack I knew and despaired of, and I'm glad of it. You've grown, son, and I don't mean physically."

Jack thought he might be blushing, and that they needed more beer.

"Moving on," Nick announced, once bottle caps had been dealt with. "We also have the guilt associated with all those Santa supplied booty calls, as you so tenderly described them, you romantic soul, you."

"I was making a point," Jack mumbled, definitely blushing. "Badly. But, Nick, why would he feel guilty about those? They were...good." More than good. They were the series of best nights Jack remembered since he'd left Torchwood. They were the precious memories that had gotten him through the months between. They were the reason Jack had finally come to turns with his own immortality. The idea of Ianto regretting them chilled Jack more thoroughly than the snow outside.

Nick reached across to pat Jack's knee. "He doesn't regret them, you ninny," he reassured, demonstrating his unerring ability to read Jack's mind as though his thoughts were written across his forehead. "But they are the very heart of his guilt." Still bent awkwardly across the coffee table, the old man pinned Jack with eyes which had lost their merry. "You know, don't you, that we age outside the Rift, Ianto and I? That he aged a day for every night he spent with you?"

Jack nodded, straightening in his seat in a futile attempt to escape that searing gaze. "That was one of the reasons I came here instead," he said, more weakly than he'd intended.

"Indeed." Nick pondered for a while as he relaxed back onto his seat. "I gave those nights as a gift, to both of you," he said eventually. "A much needed and well deserved gift. And truth be told, I kept them going long past the time I should have retired myself. Wanted to give you both just one more year, then another. Wanted it for myself, too. Overdid it, in the end, as you probably recall."

"I do," Jack agreed, eyes unfocused as he watched the memories scrolling behind his own eyelids. "Don't take this the wrong way, Nick, but you looked worse every year. And I remember Ianto saying you tried to do another, and couldn't." He fixed Nick with a piercing gaze of his own. "That's why you're still here, isn't it? Why you haven't retired somewhere like all the others. You've got no time left."

Nick fiddled with the neck of his beer bottle. "I'll recover enough, eventually, build up cosmic credit or some such, but to be honest, Jack, it was never an issue for me. I've never wanted to be anywhere else." He sighed. "But then we come back to the guilt, again. Ianto thinks he was squandering time with you when he should have been delivering gifts instead of me, and that it's trapped me here, or whatever other fool notion he's got happening in that head of his, which you should know better than me only it's painfully obvious you don't."

Jack thought that was uncalled for, even if possibly true, but was too busy putting it all together to be offended.

"That's why he's obsessed with weeding every spare second out of the flight plan?" he exclaimed, as the pieces fell into place. "He's making up for the time he spent with me?"

Nick laid a finger alongside his nose. "And he's done a sterling job so far. More deliveries in less time than I ever managed, but..."

Jack shook his head, beer bottle dangling from his fingers, forgotten in the wash of understanding. "It's more work for the reindeer, right?" he finished. "And Ianto adores them, so what, icing on the guilt cake?"

"Now you've got it," Nick agreed. "And finally, the answer to the question you asked so very petulantly out in the stable. The old boys don't age as we do, but even they can't keep up the pace they've been working at, and it's starting to show. For which Ianto blames himself. So, second team."

Jack frowned. "It took them three tries to launch," he said worriedly. "There's no way they'll be ready for Christmas, not this year at least."

The two men regarded each other with identical expressions of concern.

"I used to be Air Force, did you know?" Jack said, into the silence. "A pilot."

Nick tipped his head to the side. "Captain Jack," he agreed.

"Should have been me poring over the flight plans with him," Jack continued.

Nick grinned. His usual grin, back on his face where it belonged. "Did you think I brought you here just to warm his bed?"

Jack let that one pass because Nick was grinning, his usual jolly smile back on his face where it belonged. Everything was where it belonged, or it would be, when Jack finished pulling his head out of his very fine ass – Ianto's words, not his.

"What would those elves know about efficient flight plans?" Jack scoffed. "They've only ever travelled by Santa."

"They do their best," Nick pointed out. "But you know that saying about good intentions..."

Jack looked across with a grin. "I'll take the flight plans, you take the elves," he suggested, and before Nick could nod his agreement he was left with two damp rings on his coffee table and the breeze from the closing door. The lockless, handle-free door.

Nick checked the time. The elves were sticklers for the record books, so they'd want to make note of the moment Jack Frost came into his own.

_Thank you for reading this belated Christmas story. More tomorrow._


	4. Chapter 4

_So we come to the end, again. It's been so lovely to know that people still want to read about this insane little AU, so thank you all very much._

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><p>Jack was up to the elbows in parchment when Ianto returned to their living quarters. He'd expected a reaction at finding Jack ensconced at the table that was actually Ianto's desk. He didn't get one.<p>

Ianto barely even acknowledged Jack's presence in the suite, merely going through the motions of peeling off his coat and hat and hanging them properly before dropping into the nearest armchair with a bone-weary sigh. Jack concluded that things hadn't gone as hoped with the reindeer, which was hardly a surprise to anyone except Ianto.

"You didn't stay for the landing," Ianto commented, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

"Hung out with Nick in his chambers," Jack explained, moving to settle into the armchair across from Ianto. He'd have preferred side by side on the sofa, but this was probably a better set up for what promised to be as much confrontation as comfort. Ianto nodded, hands peeling slowly down his face. Hadn't heard a word, Jack mused, or at least hadn't registered any of them.

"You'd didn't miss much," Ianto continued, sinking back and closing his eyes. "Bumpy doesn't begin to cover it."

"They got down safely though, didn't they?" Jack said soothingly, but also because it'd cause a wrinkle in his own plans otherwise.

Ianto nodded, proving he'd at least begun to listen to what Jack was saying. "If I'd had any real presents in the sleigh they'd have been smashed," he continued gloomily. "Assuming they hadn't fallen off somewhere over Greenland."

Jack reached across to rub soothing circles onto Ianto's knee. "It's gonna be OK, Ianto."

Ianto opened his eyes. "Not in time for Christmas," he disagreed.

Jack grinned. He couldn't help it.

It didn't go down too well.

"What are you smiling about?" Ianto snapped. "I suppose you think it's all very funny, don't you? Or maybe you're gearing up for the 'I told you so' speech. All that wasted time that I could have spent with you, huh?"

Jack flushed guiltily, remembering how often he'd voiced that exact complaint when Ianto had worked long hours with his elves. Still, Ianto had take part of the blame. If he'd just told Jack what was going on, they could have fixed it together. As he was about to prove. As he should have proved long ago.

Nick must have been terribly tempted to bang their heads together. The patience of a saint, indeed.

"I'll ignore that because you're tired and depressed," Jack countered grandly. "Now stop bitching and come see what I've done to your flight charts."

Adrenaline was a wonderful thing, Jack mused smugly, as Ianto surged to his feet and practically flew across the room to the table covered with scribbled-over parchment. "Tell me you didn't," he pleaded, scrabbling for the uppermost flight map.

"I did," Jack countered, laying a hand atop of Ianto's. "And you'll thank me for it. Let me show you."

Ianto looked up, biting his lip.

"Captain Jack, remember?" Jack prompted. "RAF greatcoat? Trust me on this, would you?"

Ianto's hand turned beneath his own, grasping it tightly. "I do," he protested. "I do trust you, Jack."

Jack shook his head. "You haven't," he said. "Not that I've given you much reason to, but for Gods' sake, Ianto, I was a _pilot_. Did it never occur to you to think I might have something to add when it comes to laying out a flight plan?"

Ianto shut his eyes. "You said you were with Nick," he said slowly. "He's been running off his mouth, hasn't he? Interfering old sod."

"One of his best talents," Jack agreed smugly. "For which I have already thanked him, to which you can add yours at your leisure, if you can remember what that is, given you've stopped having any. But that's going to change, because from now on, Ianto, we're going to do this together, OK?"

Ianto looked up at him with the entire Milky Way in his eyes, and perhaps some of the maps got brushed off the desk in the ensuing moments, but Jack was careful not to step on them and he'd made copies anyway.

XXX

"Supply dumps," Ianto said, gazing up at Jack with what should have been admiration but was annoyingly closer to frustration. "Why didn't I think of that? All that space taken up with feed that could have been presents."

"Cause you're a reindeer driver, not an airman," Jack replied smugly, prodding a frown line with his finger. "Speaking of, the supply points need to be this side of the Rift, so Nick can use the second string to deliver the feed until they're ready for carrying presents."

Ianto frowned, and they lost a few moments while Jack kissed it away. Things were getting very interesting when Ianto pulled back sharply, looking around with concern. "Jack," he began, warningly. "What if..."

Jack laid a finger across his lips and grinned. "Did I mention that Nick is planning to have a word with Jingle and Bells and their cronies about their unfortunate habit of barging in uninvited? They won't dare override him because he's less of a pushover than you. And if they try," he continued pressing more firmly with the finger, because the risk of being bitten was one he was nobly willing to take, "Especially before you've had a chance to eat and rest and whatever else we might think of, I reserve the right to pull their pointy ears."

The noise Ianto made was supposed to sound horrified, but came closer to amusement. "They aren't that bad," he protested, after shaking his head free. "And besides, that wasn't what I was going to say."

Jack raised a brow, even while inspecting his sadly unbitten finger.

"Well, not _all_ I was going to say," Ianto amended. "You see," he continued, in a deceptively innocent tone which got Jack's attention instantly. "I was just wondering why you aren't flying the second string yourself. Being a pilot and all."

Things got interesting, interspersed with broken bits of conversation.

"You'll really have to let the elves make you a hat, at least."

"Long as I can still wear the coat."

"Love the coat."

Things would be interesting until the end of time.

XXX

_Epilogue, some weeks later_

Christmas was over, again. A very successful Christmas. So successful that plans were underway for a second string of kangaroos as well.

In the North, children made snowmen with their new gloves. In the South, they made sandcastles with their new buckets.

In a secluded room at the North Pole, two over-aged kids made whoopee.

A long, ochre-red coat adorned one bedpost, a military greatcoat the other. An Akubra lay on the floor, having not quite made it to its hook.

Jack's cap had made it further, possibly due to the shape, more likely because Jack was still at the stage of being extra careful with it. They elves had sourced him a genuine WWII RAF cap – or possibly just created a perfect replica. Jack wasn't going to delve into that because he knew better than to question the provenance of an olive branch, which this certainly was, given that they could have stuck him with one of those helmet things with the earflaps.

The other clothes hadn't received any consideration at all, though Ianto would probably pick them all up before cleaning day.

"Hey, do you wanna see what else the elves made me?" Jack asked.

Ianto looked up with blatant frustration. "Now?"

Jack wriggled his hips, drawing attention to regions thoroughly explored but not currently uncovered.

"You finally let them into your underwear drawer," Ianto noted, swallowing heavily as Jack contorted through poses he must have learned as an underwear model, 'cause if he hadn't been, that was a crime against materialism. "Boxers. Nice boxers. Blue." He cleared his throat, harshly. "Snug."

Jack loved how he could make Ianto's sentences break up, even after all this time.

"Embroidered," Jack added, flipping over. "I gotta hand it to them, they're good. The thread doesn't even itch."

Ianto went from broken sentences to breaking into laughter, not something usually caused by the display of Jack's somewhat perfect posterior.

But perfectly centred, one on each cheek, was a beautifully executed Christmas decoration.

"Nice baubles," Ianto said, and grabbed.

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><p><em>Happy New Year! <em>

_btw, The 'Nice Baubles' thing comes from a T-shirt my husband gave me for Christmas. My daughter was horrified._

_And just a thought, if there's anything particular you'd like to have written for this 'verse, feel free to ask. It worked this year!_


End file.
